


Dog Days

by Project0506



Series: Soft Wars Silly Sides [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Animal Transformation, Crack, Gen, Humor, gen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:21:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24520744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506
Summary: The Wolfpack's sub-par mystical artifact containment procedures strike again!  This time it's not just the Shebse that go down.  Oh no, this time they took a number of Torrent troopers with them.
Series: Soft Wars Silly Sides [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706599
Comments: 51
Kudos: 353





	Dog Days

“This was funny the first time,” Cody muses.

“Was it? Was it _really_?” Rex mewls. “When? Did I miss that?”

“No,” Bly sighs. He drops belly-down and dangles his front paws off the edge of the bookshelf they’ve all retreated to. “You didn’t. It was never funny. It was annoying and inconvenient.”

“But at least the first time I could pretend it was funny. This though. This is a disaster and I can’t even fake finding it funny.”

“Captain!” Cpl Fives yelps. He stretches up towards them as far as he can reach, wriggling in excitement. “Captain! Captain! Captain! Cap-”

“ _Stop!_ ” Cpl Echo barks and tackles him. They go rolling in a tangle of limbs and probably-playful snarls and barrel directly into one of the other Cpl’s legs. Within seconds half of Rex’s ARCs are in a gleefully snapping puddle that occasionally bangs against the lower shelf. The Shebse bear the rattling with quiet dignity.

“ _I_ think it’s funny,” Ponds considers. His ears flick to follow the tussle and his whiskers all pull forward in interest. He’s half a second from … something. Cody eyes him, eyes the angles and the flimsiboard box he’s slowly inching toward the edge and has a pretty good idea of what that something is.

“I honestly can’t tell the difference,” Wolffe says and ignores the four pairs of eyes turned to him in varying degrees of annoyance. He cleans his ears with faux nonchalance.

“I’m ordering a full review of 104th containment procedures,” Cody threatens, because once may be happenstance. Thrice has gotten clearly out of hand. Wolffe yawns and shows all of his teeth.

Ponds looks at him. Looks down. Tilts his head in feline contemplation and bats him off the shelf.

The cacophony is immense and immediate.

“ _WOLFFE!_ ” one of the Boxer puppies howls.

Wolffe backs straight up against the bookshelf and bares his teeth. “Listen you shouty little shit _don’t you dare_ -”

He dares.

He adds himself bodily to the struggling pile that has expanded from three Labrador puppies to include one gray-striped cat. Wolffe is wrestled down, sat upon and licked from chin to ears. The wrong way, so his fur stands straight up on each pass. The remaining Labradors all decide that’s much more fun that tussling and all pile on.

“Establish dominance Wolffe!” Ponds yowls and is snickering too hard to lecture Wolffe about his response.

“You should try snapping,” Rex calls down. He squirms up to Ponds side and submits to being a head-rest in exchange for the best view. “I hear they like that. Oh wait. _Thumbs_.”

“Captain.” The pair of Spaniels were the smallest and so far the most polite. They didn’t cuss like the three Boxers anyway, and had a modicum of chill very unlike the five Labradors. The tinier of the two could even give Wooley a run for his money on flopsy, fluffy, curly cuteness. (Cody would never breathe a word of that. Ghost pride.) Rex’s ears flick upright and he eels forward enough to see straight down. The tiny Spaniel has both front paws on the shelf’s upright and his stubby, fluffy tail wags idly as if he’s not intending to but life’s just so amazing he can’t help himself. “Captain, Dogma’s behind the bed. I think he’s stuck.”

“I’m not stuck!” someone snaps, muffled.

“He’s stuck,” the Spaniel repeats. “Can you help? He bit my paw when I tried.”

There’s a teeming mass of howls and claws right at the foot of the bookshelf. The Spaniel has to duck one of the Labs Wolffe sends flying, and has to duck again when the thrown puppy throws himself right back. It’s a very dangerous place for one very small kitten.

“Rex,” Cody warns, but it’s useless. One of Rex’s is in trouble. He’s already backed all the way up to the wall and his butt is wiggling.

“I can do it Cody!” he chirps and Cody would love to believe him, really. But Rex has repeatedly demonstrated a tendency to forget exactly how small he is.

“Bly can-”

“He can do it Cody!” Bly mimics. Cody throat-snarls at him idly and gets an amused sneeze for his trouble.

“Rex-”

Rex is pre-launch. If Cody interrupts him he’ll slide right off the edge of the shelf and land in exactly what Cody wants to avoid. His butt wriggles. His ears go forward. His skinny tail goes straight up. Wiggle wiggle. Wiggle wiggle. Wiggle wiggle launch. His tiny paws pound against the durasteel.

“You can do it Rex!” Ponds cheers.

“He absolutely cannot,” Bly mutters.

“I believe in you!”

“This is absolutely gonna be awful.”

He leaps in graceful arc.

“He’s going to make it,” Cody breathes half in disbelief.

“He’s absolutely not gonna make it.”

Cody and Bly are both, technically right. Rex _almost_ makes it.

His graceful arc plants him right in reach, front paws on the bed, back paws scrabbling desperately for purchase. Cody watches in idle irony. If Rex’s bed had been made with the military corners he usually does, chances are the tension would have been enough to hold him.

But Obi-Wan had dropped off a colorful blanket from Cody’s own bed, plush and soft and a riot of bright colored squares sandwiching fluffy polycotton down. It’s the _best_ for napping on, full of good memories and Obi-Wan smells. Each of his brothers has claimed a colored square as theirs and naps exclusively on that square. Cody doesn’t know how they’re going to get all the fur out after this.

Rex’s front claws snag the blanket covered bed, his back claws sink into the loose, dangling edges of the self-same blanket and there’s just no tension to hold him up.

“Oh no,” Cody groans. Bly snickers. Ponds buries his nose under his front paws.

The blanket slides from the bed in slow motion. Rex’s butt hits the floor with a thunk. The rest of the blanket eases over the edge, then tumbles down atop his head with a decisive thwump.

The two Boxer puppies pointedly ignoring the chaos so far sit up from their commandeered pillow, ears alert.

“Alive Captain?” one woofs. “Meow twice if Jesse’s in charge.” The other Lieutenant snaps at the speaker’s ear, but dutifully trots over to the shuffling bundle.

“I’m alive,” the blanket warbles. “I’m a little occupied at the moment.” The blanket wiggles. Pauses. Wiggles again. “I'm lost. Which way is up?”

“I take it back,” Bly says as one Boxer and one anxious Spaniel attempt to extract Rex from the pile of fabric. His tail swishes in laughter. “This is hilarious.” Cody glares, or tries to. Ponds and Bly both give him a look that clearly says ‘hypocrite’ on their furry faces.

“I am going to _rip your_ _guts out_ and _strangle you with ‘_ _em_ ,” Wolffe growls. One Labrador is gnawing on his ear and another is set pre-pounce at his tail. His Boxer friend keeps trying to lick his whiskers and isn’t much deterred by swats across the nose.

A Boxer has Rex scruffed and for a moment seems like he’ll be able to carefully lift the kitten out of the dastardly blankets and put him up on the bed. Then he drops Rex, who shrieks like a scramble alarm all the way down.

One Spaniel is stuck between the bed and the wall with just his nose showing, the other is panicking and the final Boxer seems content to watch everything go down and idly swat the panicking Spaniel when he flails too closely.

“It’s a disaster,” Cody repeats.

“It’s both,” Bly decides and Cody has to agree.

“You’re almost there Rex!” Ponds cheers.

“He absolutely isn’t,” Bly points out.

“He absolutely isn’t,” Ponds agrees. “But we need to encourage his development. A little further, you have this!” The Boxer drops Rex again, and Cody’s quite sure it’s a good thing Ponds is too far away to hear what Rex says to that.

Down below, Wolffe sends three of the Labs flying at once and makes a leap through the break. The jump is good: he makes it halfway up the shelf in that first bound, safely out of reach of questing noses. He gets claws in between the regular holes in the upright brace and starts the arduous scramble to top-shelf safety.

“You know you want to,” Ponds whisper sings. Cody considers. Ponds is right. He _does_ want to.

He swats at the air twice to warm up. Then, satisfied at his paw-strength, he shoves Ponds’ flimsiboard box off the edge of the shelf.

It smacks right into Wolffe’s weird-mystical-artifact-picking-up face, and cat and box both plummet into the fray.

“Hold eye contact,” Cody calls amiably as Wolfe is again consumed by the canine wave. “Maintain your authority.”

“Welcome to the dark side. I’ve got treats behind Rex’s extra secret stash of holopads.” Bly mutters. “Go for the solar plexus!”

“Language, Wolffe, think of all the little CT ears!” Ponds chips down at the growl.

Cody loafs, and his brothers loaf on either side of him and tangle their tails together. “Try a dominance growl!”

“Put your hips into it!” Bly noses him a pillow-shaped cheese-filled treat. Cody passes it to Ponds, takes one of the fish shapes from Bly’s hoard.

“So close Rex’ika!”

“What the _sith hells_ is going on in here!” comes a shout from the door. Cody, Ponds and Bly purr in studied innocence.


End file.
